


Sweet and Tender Hooligans

by PUNK_MENACE



Series: everyday i pray for a better life [1]
Category: Deadly Class (TV)
Genre: Beating, Bisexual Male Character, Blood, Caretaking, Drug Use, First Kiss, Fluff, Gay Male Character, Guilt, Hurt!Marcus, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Intimacy, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Tenderness, Underage Drinking, Vomiting, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:00:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22345999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PUNK_MENACE/pseuds/PUNK_MENACE
Summary: Things don't go too well for Marcus at a party thrown by some random prep. Marcus is knocked out pretty viciously, which puts a damper on everyone's night. On the bright side, he and Billy get to defend each other's honor, quote the Smiths at each other, and finally realize that their feelings are mutual.
Relationships: Marcus Lopez Arguello/Billy Bennett
Series: everyday i pray for a better life [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1606138
Comments: 10
Kudos: 62





	Sweet and Tender Hooligans

**Author's Note:**

> the title of the google doc is 😳 bro did u juscvt refrence the smiths? * makes out with you *
> 
> SPECIAL THANKS to Alex, my best friend who helped edit and co-write this (and pick the title) (and helped me with the Smiths reference)!!! With his help, I'll probably be uploading a whole lot more since I got him into Deadly Class recently >:D

The funny thing about going to a murder school and having plenty of violent assignments to fulfill is that most of King’s Dominion students still need to let off some steam. Regularly. Usually, that means hooking up or beating the crap out of a Rat - which, unfortunately, is usually Billy or Marcus - but some weekends a rich kid decides to throw a party. 

This weekend, some kid from a CIA legacy has opened his home to his friends, but with the amount of alcohol in their systems, no one would notice a couple of Rats slipping in. It’s easy to walk through a wide-open front door while everyone is distracted by whatever disgusting game or drink they’re lost in.

Marcus looks around, trying to find the kitchen. “Who the hell needs a house this big?” All he needs is a cup of booze in his hand, but looking around, the only thing he sees is ugly minimalist furniture. “These fascist preps didn’t need to ban us from their party when they have such a big house to throw it in.”

Willie smacks a hand on Marcus’s shoulder. “Enough with the anti-establishment ya damn hippie.”

Marcus brushes his hand off and flips him off playfully. “I speak only the truth. But seriously, I need a red plastic cup in my hands.” With that, their little group floods into the house. Willie and Billy stick around with Marcus on the way to the kitchen while Maria, Saya, Lex, and Petra take another route. 

Although it’s always nice to go out with his friends, there’s something about being around his murderous peers in a completely unsupervised environment that always has Marcus gritting his teeth. The only thing that’ll balance it out is a nice cup of rum and Coke. Or straight vodka, judging by how the preppy music is already annoying the hell out of him. “They can’t seriously like this garbage music.”

“What, you’d rather listen to the Smiths?” Willie pushes at his shoulder again.

Billy scoffs. “You never shut up about the Smiths! Why don’t you go suck Morrissey’s dick,“ he giggles, no heat in his words.

Marcus rolls his eyes. “I’d never suck a racist dude’s dick, dumbass. That’s just a waste of perfectly good blowjob skills.”

Before either of them could keep bullying him about liking a _great_ band with _honest_ lyrics, they suddenly find themselves in a trashed kitchen. Across from them, Lex bounds into the kitchen at the same time, his boots knocking around a couple of empty beer cans.

“Oi! This house is a bloody maze and I’m not even shitfaced yet!” Lex steps through more piles of bottles and cans on the way to the fridge. “These asshats better have good beer.”

Feeling a little better in the privacy of an empty kitchen, Marcus hops onto the marble island. “Is there any Coke left?”

Behind him, Saya pulls a bag out of her pocket. “The powdery kind?” She wiggles the little bag of cocaine around.

Recoiling, he shakes his head. “I’m too jittery for that.”

“Yeah, they’ve got some soda left, you damn pansy.” Lex tosses the bottle at Marcus. 

Catching it is probably the last coherent thing that Marcus remembers. After that, it gets a little blurry. He remembers pouring himself a very healthy dose of rum, chugging the first cup, and Billy immediately refilling it, but after that his head gets fuzzy. 

The music sucks for most of the night but he likes wiggling around in a vaguely dance-like manner with Billy and Maria beside him. With a warm stomach full of a mix of alcohol that he doesn’t bother to check, it’s a lot easier to enjoy himself. He flits among his friends - headbanging with Lex when he gets ahold of the speakers, cackling wildly with Saya, and getting a bit of makeup done by Petra in the bathroom. 

Petra finishes up the black eyeliner on his other eye when Marcus finally pulls away, missing Willie. He yells something about spending quality time with him over the music, words slurring, and strides out of the bathroom to find the only friend he hasn’t messed around with tonight.

His mood plummets as soon as he makes it to the stairs. First of all, he doesn’t remember being led up the stairs, so going down the stairs without Petra holding his hand is a total bummer. Second, he hears Willie yelling some creative expletives and he doesn’t sound very happy. 

The drunken haze lifts a bit. If Willie’s pissed, nothing good can be going on. Marcus stumbles into the living room where a ring of students is gathered around three figures. He pushes past several shoulders before he sees that Billy, the prep that threw the party, and Willie are the ones making a ruckus. 

“Get your fuckin’ hands off me, man!” Billy is leaning away from the prep, who has his collar in one fist and the other fist cocked back. 

The prep - Something Smeyer, Marcus thinks - rears back a little further. Marcus bursts from behind another student and tackles him before he can lay a hand on Billy. He doesn’t know why Smeyer is so angry at Billy but he doesn’t give a shit. 

Marcus and Smeyer hit the floor hard. He takes advantage of the situation. Seeing as Smeyer is far stronger than Marcus, this is probably the only time he’ll get any hits in. The problem is that he’s still pretty drunk so he can only land a couple of hits Smeyer’s face before he gets shoved off. Marcus gets a glimpse of Willie’s pissed expression as he’s slammed onto the carpet. His breath flies out, leaving him completely winded, and a burst of pain crackles across his check. His head snaps to the left, then to the right, and left again. Smeyer grunts above him, knee digging hard into Marcus’s stomach. 

The crowd of students roars in delight. Billy seems to be pounding on Smeyer’s back, but the downside of being drunk is that bonehead assholes tend to care less about their surroundings. Marcus spits out a glob of blood at him. Smeyer all but growls. He should probably stop trying to piss off the much-larger student, given his current position.

Marcus finally remembers to try to block and goes to cover his face with his forearms. Smeyer swings again and Marcus feels is a vicious blow to his temple, stars exploding across his vision. Rage spiking, he swipes at Smeyer wildly, eyes still closed from the pain in his skull. His fist connects with Smeyer’s face. The alcohol in his system has left him with about the strength of a kitten.

He feels Smeyer’s weight start to shift. The pressure on his sternum lightens enough for Marcus to suck in a deep breath. His head clears marginally. Now he can hear Billy yelling colorful insults at Smeyer. Saya, Lex, and Maria’s voices join in, hurling all sorts of curses at Smeyer. Someone grabs Marcus’s arms and drags him out from under Smeyer while Billy and Petra both pull Smeyer farther away.

Now that he isn’t being pummeled, Marcus realizes how nauseated he is. He feels blood running down nearly every inch of his face. He hadn’t realized until now that Smeyer likes to wear rings. His whole face is throbbing. The room is spinning too fast.

“Marcus...Marcus!” Willie hooks his arms under Marcus’s and pulls him up onto his feet. The students are still cheering wildly, apparently still enraptured by the fight going on behind Marcus. “Talk to me, dude!”

The spinning, the yelling, the headache, it all comes to a crescendo when Willie shakes Marcus around. It feels like his eyeballs are rolling around his head - two marbles, knocking around. His stomach cramps and his jaw clenches and there’s too much spit in his mouth. Willie is still shaking him.

Marcus leans to the side and throws up. It’s chunky and disgusting and now it’s all over his chin. The vomit splatters on the floor, but at least he can’t hear it over the students yelling in delight.

“That’s...fucking gross, Marcus,” Willie grimaces. “Not your fault, though. Let’s get out of here.”

All while this is happening, he can more or less hear the rest of his friends try to beat the crap out of a drunk, six foot five inch, 200-pound asshole. Marcus plants his feet as best he can.

“We can’t leave,” he yells into Willie’s ear, slurring hard, “I wanna punch that sloppy bitch some more!” 

“Marcus, we can’t--”

“Get the _fuck_ off of me, Rats,” Smeyer shouts. Marcus swivels around and sees his friends knocked down and Smeyer very quickly approaching with something in his hand. 

He doesn’t know what Smeyer is holding but he’s willing to bet it’s nothing good. In a split second, he decides to shove Willie as hard as possible to the side. At the same time, Smeyer raises his fist and charges. Willie stumbles back. 

Light glints off the large glass beer bottle in Smeyer’s hand. Marcus watches, hypnotized, as the bottle swings down directly at his head. He hears several people yell his name but by the time he blinks, the bottle connects solidly with the crown of his head and shatters.

* * *

The party ends pretty abruptly. When Marcus dropped like a wet sack of sand with glass in his forehead, Saya had apparently decided enough was enough. Billy stood back and watched as Saya threatened the entire house with her katana, swinging it around, threatening to gut anyone that came any closer. While she kept the crowd back, Maria held her fan against Smeyer’s neck and kicked him in the balls.

Willie’s face was pale as he lifted Marcus’s limp body up. Billy could see the guilt in his eyes and tension in his shoulders. 

Now they’re piled into Willie’s car. There are too many people crammed into the backseats but none of them care. If the police pull them over, the blood covering most of Marcus’s face would be suspicious but hopefully enough to convince a cop that they have to get to a hospital quickly.

The ride back to the academy is unusually quiet. Any other night, Lex would be yelling all sorts of gross, sexual suggestions, but with Marcus out cold, no one wants to joke around much. Billy sits in the middle - he’s always in the middle since everyone says he’s the smallest, which he doesn’t think is true - with one shoulder pressed against Petra and the other against Saya. Marcus is lying across Maria and Saya with his legs draped over Billy.

Guilt worms its way into his stomach. Marcus wouldn’t have been hurt if Billy had just kept his mouth shut, or even better, had been strong enough to hold his own against Smeyer. To be honest, Billy doesn’t feel bad that he got in a fight in the first place. Smeyer was talking shit about Marcus all night long and Billy had gotten sick of it. The dude wouldn’t shut up about how much of a fag Marcus is, how he’s a worthless rat that should have gotten expelled. Billy had decided to tell him to shut up. From there, the situation escalated quickly.

Marcus had come downstairs, eyeliner freshly applied by Petra, swaying a bit. Willie had been trying to distract Smeyer and get him to let go of Billy. 

Billy squeezes his eyes shut against the headache building behind his eyes. He can’t stop picturing Marcus on the floor, arms splayed to either side, blood bursting from his nose. He can perfectly picture staring at Smeyer’s back from where Billy lay, stalking closer and closer to Marcus, a beer bottle in his fist. 

It’s all too familiar.

Billy’s eyes snap open. He feels Marcus’s legs wiggling. Marcus groans, mutters something quiet, and stills.

Soon after, Willie pulls into the parking garage where Dominion students leave their cars. Saya helps maneuver Marcus into Willie’s arms. Cradled in Willie’s arms, Marcus looks small and fragile, not at all like the foolhardy and brave punk that Billy knows and loves. 

Quickly and quietly, they make their way into King’s Dominion and creep down the halls. The hooded figures seem to stare but don’t stop them on the way to Marcus’s room. Most other students are either at the party and dead asleep by now. In the silence, all Billy can think about is the guilt gnawing at his guts. He feels sick thinking about how this was all his fault. If he’d just been stronger, Marcus wouldn’t have had to protect him. 

Billy opens the door for Willie. Shabnam isn’t inside, but Billy doesn’t care where he is, so it doesn’t really matter. He’s too busy pulling at his hair. Frustration at his own weakness and worry for Marcus bubbles up and adds to the confusing typhoon of emotions.

Petra slips her hand around his wrist and tugs gently. “Billy, stop,” she says. “This isn’t your fault. I’m not going to let you think it is. Marcus got hurt because of Smeyer, not you. You know that Marcus is going to do what he wants, especially if it means protecting one of us.” Petra stares him down. Her blue eyes do a good job of making him feel like a butterfly pinned to a board. “Get it?”

Though it doesn’t go away completely, Petra’s reassurances do make the guilt ebb, if only just a little.

Billy untangles his fingers from his hair. “Thanks.”

Petra nods and gives him a rare, small smile. “I’m going to sleep. I’ll try to get Lex to leave you alone.” 

Billy watches as she corrals Lex out of the room. Saya and Maria must have already gone to their own rooms. Willie rubs a hand down his face and then makes his way to the door.

“I left the first aid kit on the bed. Marcus is more or less awake, but I’m really fuckin’ tired, so I’ll leave you two alone.” Willie pats Billy’s shoulder on the way out. “Take good care of him.”

In the safety of Marcus’s room, Billy feels his nerves settle. Marcus sits slouched on the edge of his bed, swaying from side to side. The blood on his face has mostly dried. Billy grabs a wet towel and kneels down in front of Marcus. He carefully scrubs at the blood, studying Marcus’s eyelashes. Even bruised and pummeled, he’s beautiful. Marcus hums softly and leans into the warm towel.

The blood isn’t too hard to get off. By the time Marcus’s face is mostly clean, the towel is pink and crusty. Billy tosses that into a corner and takes a look at the several cuts on Marcus’s face. The worst one is hidden by the unruly curls over Marcus’s hairline and it looks like there’s a small piece of glass still in there. Billy dips his hand into the first aid kit and yanks the tweezers out.

“This is gonna hurt,” Billy whispers. “Sorry.” Marcus hums again and doesn’t bother opening his eyes. Billy takes that as a sign to continue. He pinches the piece of glass tightly and carefully pulls it out, trying not to snag it on the broken skin. A couple more drops of blood trickle down Marcus’s face. 

Billy wipes the drops away with his thumb. He holds his breath, thumb stilling on Marcus’s cheek. He feels Marcus lean into his hand and flushes deeply. 

It feels too intimate. His cheeks are too hot and Marcus still has open cuts all over his face, so Billy pulls back and shoves his hand into the kit again. He tries to distract himself from Marcus’s cute scar and the way his nose slopes and his damn perfect jawline while he pours the antiseptic onto a cotton ball. He can still feel the warmth coming off of Marcus like a siren call. 

Billy dabs the cotton ball over all the cuts. There’s one high on his cheek, one over the bridge of his nose, and another one on his lip. Marcus slumps down a little more as the minutes tick by. Billy blinks hard and swallows, suddenly nervous at the thought of Marcus’s lips. He cups Marcus’s cheek to keep him still and turns the cotton ball to a clean side. He flinches back when the antiseptic touches his lip and lets out a little breath.

Marcus scrunches up his nose a bit before settling again. Billy lets out the breath he was holding.

“Finished.” Billy sits back on his heels and looks over the cuts again. They should heal in a couple of weeks. He reaches over to snag a water bottle and uncaps it. “Drink up, buddy.” Marcus doesn’t move and instead peels his eyes open. He stares down at the water bottle for a couple of seconds and then lets his mouth fall open, lips parting like he’s waiting to be fed. Billy feels himself going beet red. “O-okay, fine,” Billy tries to joke. “Lazybones.” He tips the bottle, making sure that Marcus has his lips wrapped around the rim so he doesn’t spill all the water on his lap.

Two sips in, Marcus seems to wake up, and he wraps his hand around the bottle. He tips it further and chugs the rest. When he’s done, Marcus lets the bottle fall off the side of the bed and rubs his eyes.

“Mm, fuck. I feel like total ass.” Marcus’s eyes flutter open. “Like a piece of ass that got...dropped on the sidewalk. And stepped on. And slapped.” Then he blinks at Billy. “Hold on. Who did this?” Marcus scowls, probably trying to look intimidating, but he ends up looking more like a disgruntled toddler. He leans in closer to Billy and puts both hands on his face. “Who do I have to beat up?”

Billy’s whole body feels warm. He laughs and grins, feeling his face squish like a stuffed animal in the hands of a toddler. “Calm down, Robocop.”

“How dare you call me a cop,” Marcus whines, “I was just trying to defend your honor. But, seriously, Billy...your face is all bruised.” He frowns and strokes Billy’s cheeks. Then his hands slide down to Billy’s neck and he squeezes his shoulders. “You have a lil’ cut on your forehead.” Marcus looks around and spots the first aid kit next to him and rifles around. He snatches a bandaid out. “I’m gonna nurse you til’ you’re all better.” Marcus leans in and brushes his lips against Billy’s brow. 

Billy freezes. Marcus carries on, unfazed, unwrapping the bandaid and pressing it lovingly to Billy’s tiny cut. He grins wide, studying his work. Billy hears his heartbeat roaring in his ears.

“So, what happened back there? I kinda feel like I got run over by a truck. Who did this?” Marcus asks, rubbing his thumb over the small bandaid.

Billy sighs. “Smeyer was being a jerk. I told him to stop and he got pissed.” Marcus looks him in the eye. It’s quiet for a bit. “He was saying stupid shit about you. But then you jumped in and...he kept punching you. And then he grabbed the beer bottle. You could’ve died, Marcus.”

Marcus’s eyes roam over Billy’s face. “You, too. You could’ve died...defending my honor.”

Billy feels a smile tug at his cheeks. “Well...if a six-foot prep killed the both of us...to die by your side, the pleasure, the privilege would be mine.” 

Marcus sits up straight and grins. “Billy did you just...was that the Smiths? That was the Smiths!” He seems to realize what Billy said. It sinks in. “You…” Marcus stares at him, eyes as wide as dinner plates.

A beat passes. 

Then Marcus leans in, eyes closed, and presses his lips to Billy’s. 

They’re soft. Even with the little cut on his bottom lip, Marcus’s lips are just as soft as Billy thought they would be. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he’d thought about this moment. And it’s perfect. Marcus tilts his head to the side and slides his hand to the back of Billy’s head and leans in harder. 

Billy’s hands gravitate to Marcus’s hips. He’s overwhelmed, full of heat and fireworks, nerves sparking with electricity. He wraps his arms around Marcus a little tighter, pulling him nearly off the bed so they’re flush, chest to chest.

Billy only pulls away when he’s out of breath. Marcus gasps, a tiny noise in his throat, and bumps foreheads together again. Billy feels his cheeks heat up again. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” Marcus breathes. “Like, a long while.” 

At that, Billy can’t help but laugh again. Pure giddiness floods his chest. “Me too!” He can’t help himself - Billy presses another peck to Marcus’s lips and giggles again. “I just didn’t think it would happen ‘cuz you got the stuffing beaten outta you.”

Marcus, now perched precariously at the edge of the bed, slides off fully and all but falls into Billy. He presses his face to Billy’s neck and laughs, still a bit drunk. His hot breath sends shivers down Billy’s spine. 

“Shut up, I...my stuffing is all inside. I’m like a teddy bear.” Marcus leans in a little harder. “Mm. I’m so fuckin’ tired. Can we sleep now?” 

Billy brushes his hand through Marcus’s curls and breathes in the mix of sweat, blood, and familiar cologne. “Yeah, it’s sleepy time. It’s been a long night of defending each other’s honor.”

Billy helps Marcus back onto the bed and takes his scuffed up jacket off. He drapes that over the headboard and then tosses his shoes in the corner. Marcus wiggles around under the sheets are out from under him. Then, he stops. Marcus pats the mattress beside him. 

“Stay?”

It’s late, and he’s tired. All the booze and confrontation had tuckered him out. He doesn’t want to leave Marcus in the state he’s in. So, it’s an easy decision. 

Billy nods and drops down onto the bed. He pulls the sheets up over them both and scoots closer to Marcus, draping an arm over his waist. Marcus latches on to him like an octopus and smushes his face into Billy’s shoulder again. His curls tickle Billy’s collarbone.

“G’night,” Marcus murmurs. His breathing evens out. Billy presses a kiss to his temple and another to his forehead. He sighs, soft and light, not scared or disappointed but relieved. Something about having Marcus in his arms makes him feel invincible. It feels right, like they were meant to fit together like this. 

Billy holds him a little tighter, butterflies in his stomach, peaceful at last. He lets his eyes slide closed, falling asleep in only minutes.

**Author's Note:**

> these bitches gay! good for them! good for them.


End file.
